Epilogue
EMMA
Iwake to sunlight streaming through the window and Wyatt's arm heavy across my waist. The cabin smells of coffee and pine, a scent I've come to associate with home in just a week. My home. Our home.
Cain jumps onto the bed, circling three times before settling against my legs. Abel follows, predictably attacking his brother's tail. Their skirmish sends ripples of movement through the quilts.
"Those damn cats," Wyatt mumbles into my hair, his voice rough with sleep.
I smile and nestle deeper into his warmth. "They missed me too."
His arm tightens around me, a silent acknowledgment of the month we spent apart. We don't talk about it much anymore. What matters is now—this bed, this cabin, this life I've chosen.
Wyatt makes breakfast while I feed the cats. We eat at the rough-hewn table he built with his own hands, discussing plans for the day. Simple. Perfect. Just us.
"I need to check the far ridge," he says, refilling my coffee cup. "Want to come?"
"Of course." I've accompanied him every day this week, learning the mountain that's now my permanent home. Sometimes I bring my camera, sometimes I just watch him work. Either way, I find myself storing these moments like treasures.
The ridge offers a spectacular view of the valley below. Wyatt moves with that fluid grace that first captured my attention, pointing out landmarks, teaching me to read the land the way he does.
"There's a storm system coming," he says, gesturing to clouds gathering in the distance. "Probably hit tomorrow."
I frame the approaching clouds through my viewfinder. "It's beautiful."
"Yes, very beautiful."
When I lower my camera, he's watching me with an intensity that still makes my heart race. I remember all those romance movies I used to watch, where I wished someone would look at me the way those heroes looked at their heroines.
Wyatt does the exact same thing to me. The proof is the butterflies fluttering in my belly.
He reaches for my hand, tugging me to sit beside him on a sun-warmed rock.
"I have something for you."
From his pocket, he withdraws a small wooden box, its surface carved with delicate mountain peaks. Oh my God, it's so beautiful.
"I made this last month," he says, "when I thought you weren't coming back."
He opens the box. Inside sits a ring—a simple band of white gold with a princess-cut diamond at its center.
The stone catches the golden light of the sun, throwing tiny rainbows that dance across the rocky outcropping where we sit.
It's not huge or ostentatious, but perfectly cut and clear, sparkling against the backdrop of the valley spread below us.
"Wyatt," I say, unable to look away from how the diamond seems to capture the very light of the mountains themselves.
But Wyatt is already down on one knee before me. "I've loved you since the moment you stumbled into my life, and I will love you until I take my last breath. I was going to say you changed my life, but that's not exactly true. You, Emma, baby, you are my life. Will you marry me?"
Tears blur my vision as I take the ring from its nest, hand shaking so hard I almost drop it.
"Yes," I say, letting him slide it onto my finger. "Yes, of course, yes."
He kisses me then, and the mountains around us fade away. It's just him and me and the rest of our lives together. When we break apart, I can't stop staring at the ring—this perfect embodiment of us.
"It's beautiful," I whisper.
"Like you." His forehead rests against mine. "I was going to wait, but I couldn't. Needed you to know you're it for me."
"I've known," I tell him, "since that first night under the stars."
We sit there, newly engaged, watching clouds build over mountains that were once just a photography assignment and are now our future. My fiancé. Our home. Words I never imagined would fit so perfectly.
"We need supplies," Wyatt announces the next morning. "Town day."
The prospect of going to town together feels significant. Last time I left this mountain, rangers and angry parents were involved. This time, I'll return with Wyatt by sunset, our truck loaded with supplies for our shared life.
The drive down takes almost an hour, the truck bouncing over rough roads. Wyatt holds my hand when he doesn't need both for steering, his thumb occasionally brushing over my new ring.
The town looks different now—not a gateway back to my old life but simply a place where people like us get necessities. We move through the general store, gathering food and household items. I notice how people nod at Wyatt, their curious glances at me now tinged with recognition.
Wyatt translates a look from the woman behind the counter. "Mrs. Perkins wants to know if we need flour."
"We do," I say, amazed at how easily he reads the locals.
Mrs. Perkins adds flour to our growing pile. "Mail came for you, Emma," she says, disappearing into a back room. She returns with an official-looking envelope. "Started forwarding here last week, like you asked."
I accept the envelope with a flutter of surprise. "Thank you."
Outside, loading supplies into the truck, Wyatt notices my distraction.
"What's that?"
I examine the return address. "It's from the photography contest I entered before..." I pause. "Before I came home to you."
His eyes soften at my choice of words. Home. With him.
"Open it, baby."
I tear the envelope carefully, my heart hammering in my chest, sliding out a formal letter. My eyes scan the text, widening with each sentence.
Oh my God. Is this for real?
"Wyatt." My voice comes out strangled. "I won."
He chuckles and pulls me to him. "Of course you did, baby."
"First place. Overall." I can barely speak. "They want the photo for their annual showcase. There's a cash prize of ten thousand dollars, plus a five-thousand-dollar camera equipment package and—" I have to stop and breathe. "And an all-expenses-paid trip for two to photograph the Alps."
Wyatt's face breaks into that rare, full smile that transforms his features. He lifts me off my feet in an embrace that spins us in circles right there in the parking lot.
"I knew it," he says against my hair. "I knew you were brilliant."
When he sets me down, I'm dizzy with more than the spinning. "You're not surprised?"
"That you won? Not even a little." He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "Which photo was it?"
I check the letter again, though I already know. "The one of you. Looking at the stars that first night."
"Me?"
"You." I touch his bearded cheek. "The judges said it captured 'the profound human connection to wilderness.' They have no idea how right they are."
He kisses me then, right in front of the general store, unconcerned with the townspeople who might see. When we finally break our kiss, both breathless, Mrs. Perkins is watching from the doorway with an approving smile.
"We should celebrate," Wyatt says. "Get something special for dinner."
We add wine and ingredients for a proper feast to our supplies. The entire drive home, I can't stop looking at the letter, the ring, the man beside me—all pieces of a life I never dared imagine.
After dinner, we settle onto the porch with glasses of wine. The mountains transform in the dying light—silhouettes against a sky painted in deep purples and midnight blues. Stars emerge one by one, pinpricks of silver in the vast expanse above us.
Cain and Abel weave between our feet, their eternal rivalry temporarily forgotten as they stalk the shifting shadows cast by moonlight through the pine branches.
"The Alps," I say, rolling the word around my tongue like the wine in my glass, savoring both the taste and the possibility. "I never imagined I'd see them. Snow-capped peaks that scrape the sky, glacial lakes so blue they look like someone spilled heaven into the valleys."
Wyatt's arm tightens around my shoulders, drawing me closer against his warmth as the mountain air snaps its familiar bite. His cheek comes to rest on the crown of my head, his beard catching strands of my hair.
"When do we leave, baby?"
That casual "we"—as if my dreams automatically include him, as if there's no question he belongs in every adventure I might chase—sends warmth spiraling through my chest. Still, after everything we've weathered, I need to hear him say it clearly.
"You'll really come with me?" I tip my head back to search his face. "Leave all this behind, even temporarily?"
He looks surprised by the question. "Of course."
"But your cabin, the mountain—"
"They'll be here when we get back." He sets his glass down, taking both my hands in his. "Emma, I spent years building this place, thinking it was everything I needed. Then you showed up, and I realized it was just waiting for you."
"The cabin's home because you're in it," he continues. "The mountains are special to me because I now see them through your eyes." His hands tighten on mine. "I'll follow you everywhere, baby. Alps, , Antarctica—wherever your camera and heart take you."
I lean into him, overwhelmed by the certainty in his voice. "I never thought I could have both—adventure and home."
"You can have everything. We both can."
"I love you so much. You know that, right?"
"I love you too, baby. Forever and ever."
I think about the path that led me here. One wrong turn in the wilderness changed everything—or maybe it was the first right turn of my life.
I'm not lost anymore. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, with exactly who I'm meant to love. Tomorrow we'll wake in this cabin. Next month we might be photographing Alpine peaks. After that?
The possibilities stretch endlessly before us. This mountain taught me who I truly am. This man showed me I could be loved for it.
And together, we'll follow each other everywhere.
The End
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